At first Glance
by Undomiel-Estel
Summary: Eowyn sees Arwen for the first time during the coronation of Aragorn in Minas Tirith (will eventually detail other's pov)
1. A shieldmaid's introduction

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just play in their world.  
  
I have never seen Elves before, aside from Aragorn's companion Legolas. They never had reason to journey to Rohan. I'd heard stories of their beauty, wisdom and grace, but I did not expect it to be so overwhelming. Now they are here, in Gondor, silently watching Aragorn's coronation. They carry banners of silver and white, dressed in fine raiment's and speaking softly amongst themselves. My eyes scan the ageless faces and suddenly like a beacon my eyes rest upon the most exquisite creature I've ever seen.  
  
She is beautiful, in her gown of green and silver. Her hair is as dark as night, and her eyes are the color of the evening sky. They sparkle as though they hold brilliant starlight in them, as though she knows all the knowledge of the world and it has not caused her hurt. There is hope in those eyes. She is graceful, even for an Elf. She hardly steps upon the ground as she walks. The others near her are nothing like her. They are light, but still dull in her luminescence. It is though her pale skin is woven through with silver thread. I cannot draw my eyes from her. She walks forward, carrying one of the banners and looking at the ground. Lord Elrond walks behind her, a hand upon her shoulders. I wonder who this elf could be, to be regarded in such a fashion by the Lord of Rivendell.  
  
Faramir touches my arm, drawing my attention away from the elf- maid. I look at him and smile. He returns the favor and turns back to greet the Aragorn, newly crowned and regal in his attire. Comparing the two men is not wise, I realize. I love Faramir. He is a good man, a good choice. He will make a good husband. But when I gaze upon Aragorn, a warm rush courses through my veins and I am speechless. He is the most striking man I've seen, and after our first meeting I would lay awake at night, thinking all manners of impure thoughts that an unmarried woman should not have for a man who cannot love her in return. It was painfully apparent I loved him. Even my dear uncle saw it. Aragorn did as well, though he was caring enough to ignore my more blatant displays of love, to ease the discomfort of my plight. I should have realized then that I would never own his heart. While I still desire him, and I still find myself fighting consuming feelings for the man, I will try to quell them and reserve such feeling for the man I shall tomorrow call husband. I reach out a hand and stroke Faramir's cheek. His eyes dance and he kisses my palm, and I am happy.  
  
Aragorn walks by me now and smiles at my intended and I. I know that he is happy for us, but despite his joy at our happiness there is loss in his eyes. It is as though he is missing something when he looks upon the two of us. We spoke, those many days ago, of his own love, though at the time it shattered my already brittle heart. A woman who was leaving Middle- Earth to join her kin. I felt for him then, and still now I feel pity for such a man, doomed to lose his one true love to a destiny greater then his own. Such a man is worthy of love. I hope one day he might find someone to fill his heart and restore his soul.  
  
He is kingly. As he walks, I see that he has come into his own. He became the man he was born to be. And I am proud of him. I smile as Legolas approaches him, and the two friends enjoy the brief respite from ceremony. They regard each other happily, content with the other's presence and the bond they shall share forever. I smile for them. The Elf has been a good friend. Aragorn is blessed to have such a companion to help him endure such hardships.  
  
Something draws me attention away from the two friends. The striking elf maid suddenly appears behind Legolas, though her heavy banner hides her from the view of both elf prince and king. I cannot imagine who this elf is. To be allowed so close to the King, and to be regarded so well by Lord Elrond.....she must be presenting a gift to Aragorn.  
  
Legolas stands to the side, and Aragorn proceeds to walk forward. I watch curiously as he views the banner, wondering what is occurring. I must admit I myself am confused. Faramir must be as well. I looks at me, his eyes crinkled and a questioning look gracing his young features.  
  
"What do you suppose is happening?" He whispers down into my ear.  
  
"I am not sure, my Lord."  
  
Aragorn reaches a hand out to brush against the banner, and slowly the elf emerges from behind it's silver trimmings. There are no sounds, only the soft breeze and the heavy breathing of the crowd. Some gasp at the beauty of the elf, and I notice the other members of the fellowship smile with hidden knowledge. Looking back at the elf, I see glittering tears form in her eyes, and she releases the banner into the arms of another. She moves slowly towards Aragorn, who also appears to be drawn to her. They look at each other, and suddenly a realization strikes me.  
  
It is her.  
  
She is here.  
  
She did not take the ship into the west. I turn that thought over in my head, and when I look back up from the ground, I can see the disbelief in Aragorn's eyes. He moves against her quickly, desperate to touch her, and he catches her lips in a passionate kiss. I watch, shocked, and can barely hear the cheering of the zealous crowd behind me. Faramir and I watch as the two embrace, unable to truly believe the other is there. A lump in my throat constricts when I see tears in the eyes of Aragorn. Such love I've never seen. I was a fool to think I could affect him in this way. I see now that his heart was always hers. It was never mine for the taking.  
  
Feeling shameful I lower my gaze. I cannot bring myself to watch their reunion. I cannot stand to see the look on Elrond's face. She must be his daughter. No man would look so happy or so lost at the same time as a man resigned to watching his daughter be wed to such a man, or even any man at all. The elves cheer and clap at the passionate lovers. I slip away from the din. I cannot look upon the face of the woman I tried to replace. I sigh as the sounds of the celebration grow fainter, and I find myself a quiet little spot in the palace halls, where I sit and watch the sun grow fainter and lower into the west. When I feel gathered enough to join the feast, I rise from my seat and walk through the guarded halls to the throne room.  
  
There are so many people in the room I can barely move. I scan the room and see the King and my betrothed, laughing and speaking. With a heaviness on my heart unlike any other, I make my way to them. It is not until I reach them that I notice Aragorn's beloved standing at his side, his arm wrapped about her waist. Faramir sees me emerging from the crowd, and rushes towards me, gathering me in an ambrace and swinging me around. I smile a small grin at him and he kisses my nose as he lowers me back to the ground.  
  
"Such a day, Lady Eowyn! I thought you lost and sought to search you out, but this boastful king said you were more then able to defend yourself, and thus would not grant me leave to find you." Faramir laughed as he kissed my hand, and with a glint in his eye he winks. I laugh genuinely, and look at Aragorn, though at all costs I avoid looking into the elf-maid's face.  
  
"Ay, Faramir love. Aragorn is right minded to know my abilities. In time you yourself will learn that I possess many strengths, one being self- preservation at all costs." I look back at my intended, and in explanation say, "As I told Lord Aragorn once before, the women of Rohan learned that those who do not fight by the sword can still die upon them. Unfortunately, none were willing to let me prove myself except Aragorn. It is just that he knows my skill and does not see it necessary to keep me watched over." Faramir's face falls a slight bit, and to soothe his wounded intentions, I kiss his cheek. "But I do appreciate your concern." His face brightens, and he turns back to the King as he laces hand with mine.  
  
Caught up in their circle, I cannot avoid her now. Braving it, I look at her and at this close distance she steals my breathe. Aragorn, I notice, is also struck by her proximity. They stand so closely, I doubt air could get in between their bodies. She is tall and slim, and I suddenly feel short and rugged. Her skin is like silk, her hands smooth and uncreased. In her presence I feel a stable maid. It is no wonder she captivates Aragorn so. She meets my eyes and in them I can see boundless love. Aragorn breeches the distance between us and motions to me.  
  
"Indonya, this is Eowyn, niece of King Theodan of Rohan and sister to Eomer. She is set to wed my steward at the setting of tomorrow's sun." Looking at me, Aragorn says simply, "This is Arwen, the Evenstar of the Elves, and daughter of Lord Elrond."  
  
I curtsey, feeling clumsy and graceless. How does one strive to impress an Elf princess, afterall? She lowers her head, indication of my status, and speaks.  
  
"Mae Govannen, Eowyn, daughter of Eomund. Stories of the white lady's brave deeds have reached even this elf's pointed ears. I must pay my respects to the one who was able to defeat in combat the leader of the nine." Her voice is soft and smoky, and it sounds like music. With every passing instance I feel more a classless wench in comparison to her imposing presence. I find myself wanting to hate her, but there is something about her that makes it impossible. It isn't even that she has Aragorn. She is just simply too intriguing.  
  
"Thank you, m'lady." I nod and search for something more to say. I stammer, "Will you be staying long in the white city?" Though I already know of their answer, my thumping heart does take some small measure of joy at the passing look of love and excitement Aragorn and Arwen share.  
  
Aragorn smiles at me, and announces joyously "We're to be wed on Midsummer's day! It has been too long since Gondor had a King, but just imagine her joy at a new Queen!"  
  
I smile and force myself to be happy for them. No doubt I shall be hesitant around Arwen for the next few days to come, but I must try to do my best to accommodate her now that she is to marry the king. Taking her arm, I stand beside her, and with a lightness in my voice, proclaim:  
  
"Midsummer's day? So soon! We must see to it that you are prepared and well equipped with everything you shall need. As I myself am marrying Gondor's stewards tomorrow, I can understand such a rushed process." She laughs at this, a small sound that seems to ring through the hall, at least to my ears anyway. It is a clear laugh, but one that denotes slight undertones of nervousness and girlish innocence. I smile once more, this time feeling more sincere in my attempt. Aragorn and Faramir smile at the two of us, and no one could mistake the devotion and love on the king's face as he watches Arwen giggle.  
  
Perhaps it will not be so hard to accept this very sudden change. I can not imagine growing to know this elf and disliking her, but we shall see how things course themselves. I gaze at Faramir, and while I have yet to feel that all consuming passion for him that I felt for Aragorn, I can see the same devoted look in his eyes when he stares at me. And deep inside, I can feel a gently warmth spreading through me. I release Arwen's arm, and watch as Aragorn sweeps her up in an embrace. Faramir comes to stand beside me, and kisses my lips gently. I smile and return the kiss. I lean into him and close my eyes, as he whispers into my ear, "Would I be too forward if I were to admit I am excited about tomorrow?"  
  
I giggle, and look up at him, his eyes blue and bright and dancing. "No, because I myself am more then a little excited." He smiles widely at me, and kisses me again. "Well, good", he murmurs and draws me closer. Over his shoulder I see Arwen and Aragorn retreating into the crowd, and though I had no envisioned myself where I now stand, I do not have any more reservations. 


	2. Evenstar's musings

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just play in their world.  
  
Seeing as some of you liked this story, I decided to continue from the perspectives of other characters to give the story different facets. Hope you like.  
  
Mortal weddings ceremonies are quite different from those of the Elves. There is only one cleric officiating. There are no prayers for the couple's love to remain eternal, no choirs singing ancient encantations to incite suppressed passion, no self-written verses shared between two newly joined hearts. It seems more mechanic than desirable. It is odd to me.  
  
An elvish ceremony is indeed at times drawn out, but when you have forever to live, a long ceremony is nothing really. I myself have been witness to elvish weddings lasting days, even weeks. The joining of elves in marriage is nothing to be undertaken lightly. I truly wonder if Aragorn is aware of the exercise in patience to be enforced upon him in two weeks time with our own nuptials. Despite being immersed in the world of the elves since he was a babe, something tells me Estel does not quite understand what is coming his way in marrying the daughter of a high elf lord. My father must feel the same, for his eyes meet mine across the courtyard and we both smile knowingly.  
  
Turning my gaze back to the ceremony, I smile at the happiness I see in Faramir's eyes, and recognize it as the feelings barely contained in my own breast. There is nothing but love in his gaze, and those eyes shining so brightly on Eowyn's face light up her pale skin and golden hair with an ethereal brilliance. She is beautiful in her wedding raiment. The white lady lives up to her title. She possesses a childish grace, and an excited gait about her that were it not for her rounded ears and cloudy eyes, I might mistake her as a young elfmaid. This joyous site before the gathered witnesses has a profound effect. I look around me and see women wiping tears from smiling faces, and men from Rohan smiling and beaming with silent pride. I see this pride most in Eomer, newly crowned King of Rohen, as he stands beside his sister, one hand resting on her white cloaked shoulder.  
  
Aragorn stands beside me, his hand resting at the small of my back, his fingers gently tracing down my spine unintentionally. I gaze up at him and feel my heart flutter. I lean into him and wrap my own arm around his waist. He looks down at me, and pulls me closer before kissing my forehead. Our eyes sparkle with the excited knowledge that our own wedding is only weeks away, and my love leans in to whisper into my ear. His warm breath tickles my ear, and giggling I squirm away from him without ever really trying to break free from his embrace.  
  
"So close and yet so far, meleth-nin. Soon our hearts shall have all that we fought so hard for."  
  
I look into his eyes, flecks of grey drowning in pools of crystalline blue, and I feel my knees threaten to give out. Those words, tumbling so freely from those blessed lips, carry so much meaning and weight to them that I can do nothing more then feel my throat constrict and tears brim in my lashes. He smiles at my faint blush, and embraces me fully, drawing the gaze from several men and women, concerned as to the action interrupting so important a wedding.  
  
I realize that the King and I are making a slight scene, and taking attention away from those who truly deserve it this day. Clearing my throat slightly, I indicate Aragorn to resume watching his Steward's remaining moments as a free man. He obliges with a mischievous smile playing upon his lips, and from across the stone pathway I can see my father's eyes crinkled in merriment at our very public display of affection. Out of the corner of his eye I see him peek at me, and realizing he has been caught, he looks at me directly and suddenly a stern look falls upon his noble brow. Testing his true feelings, I smirk lightly at him, and then like the sun appearing from behind the clouds, a smile melts across his lips and he is again the happy man I know so well but have not seen in ages; the man I have not seen much of since the one ring had been found and a grave countenance had stolen his mirth. Perhaps this sorely missed man shall remain for a bit.  
  
The sounds of cheers and shouting steals my attention, and I jump with a slight start. In my musings I have missed the end of the ceremony. Eowyn and Faramir are wed and the crowds below in the lower levels make known their celebrations at so noble a joining. In the royal courtyard, everyone claps and sings, and nods to the passing newlyweds as they immerse themselves in the throng to greet their wellwishers.  
  
As the twilight stretches into evening, guests feast beneath the stars and toast to marriage, love, and the conception of babes. While the ceremonies themselves could not be more different from our own, the celebrations are quite the same, and the assembled elves make the most of it. Members of my father's house join in the dancing, and singing, and reveling. Aragorn had himself disappeared into the many guests, greeting many and speaking with friends.  
  
I sit with the elves, laughing and musing and enjoying their company. Somewhere in the back of my mind, something tells me to savor this, for in a short time, I shall forever be robbed of their presence. Feeling the tightness once more settle in my chest, I push away such thoughts. Now is not the time for such sadness.  
  
A hand taps my shoulder, and I look up from my perch to see Legolas, harp in hand and a smile on his lips, his eyes bright and gleaming and loving. He gestures to the crowd and quietly says: "What say you we give the world of men a taste for the music of the elves?" I smile at his offer, and nod. He perches beside me on the stone balustrade, and begins strumming a haunting tune from the strings of his harp. I close my eyes, and remember the words to a song I have never sung, but heard many times from the mouth of my own mother. "I once had a true love and I loved him so well  
  
I loved him far better than my tongue can tell  
  
And I thought that he spoke and to me did say  
  
"It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day" If I were an eagle and had wings for to fly  
  
I would fly to his castle and there I would lie  
  
On a bed of green laurel I would lay myself down  
  
And with my fond dreams I would my love surround I dreamt last night that my true love came in  
  
So slowly he came that his feet made no din  
  
And I thought that he spoke and to me did say  
  
"It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day."  
The harp grows silent, and when I open my eyes, I see the watching faces of the crowd staring at me. My father comes to stand beside me and rests his hand upon my shoulder, and his eyes carry a sadness in them I have not seen since my mother crossed the sea into the west. I take his hand in my own, and press it against my cheek. He kneels beside me, and brushes a heavy lock of hair away from my shoulder.  
"I have not heard that song since Celebrian left these shores."  
"I am sorry, Ada. I didn't mean to weigh your heart down with misgivings."  
"You do not make me sad, Arwen. You just remind me so much of your mother that at times it shocks me."  
I nod, and kiss his hand. "Soon, Ada, you and Naneth shall be together in Valinor, and your heart may rest once again, content and fulfilled."  
"Partially fulfilled, Undomiel. There shall always be a piece missing, remaining here with you until the end." He kisses my forehead, and with a slight nod, vanishes away to be joined by Gandalf, who looks at me and smiles. I watch those two wise men depart and sigh. Before I can feel sad again, a shadow falls upon my lap, and I raise my head to look into Eowyn's radiant face. I quickly stand, and embrace the newly wed. I notice her slight hesitancy in returning the gesture, but I ignore the tremor in her frame and smile at her.  
"How are you, M'lady?" She asks me quietly, and in her face I can see her genuine desire to consider me a friend, but there is something darker in her gaze, something that is perhaps discontent. Her eyes flash blue fire momentarily, and I sense that she is bitter at me for some unknown reason. She is a hard woman to read, I must give her that. It shall take me some time to understand the mechanisms of mortal women.  
"I am well, Lady Eowyn, and I am so happy for you this day! Lord Faramir will make a fine husband. He is brave and handsome and so very much in love with you. I hope your union is blessed and favored by whatever keeper you go by."  
"Thank you."  
A few moments of silence pass between us, and despite the icy air between us, I can feel her desire to breech it just as strongly as I can feel my own. Luckily, Faramir and Aragorn approach just as the tension becomes unbearable. Eowyn and I sigh and smile as Faramir embraces his wife from behind. Aragorn for his part, gathers me in a massive embrace and lifts me from the ground. He spins around and were I not feeling so giddy and in love, I might complain that the constant twirling motion made me feel ill. He sets me on the ground and holds me up as my legs wobble with my weight upon them. He laughs heartily and kisses me in full view of all who are present. I care not, really. In fact, as I've told him more then once, anytime he see fit to kiss me he should do so. It is enthralling to know he is just as effected by me as I am by him.  
Faramir smiles at us, and addresses me once my giggling has subsided.  
"That was a lovely song, Lady Arwen. I've heard tales of the beauty of elvish song, but not until this moment did I realize it's power to stir the heart so movingly."  
"Hennon lle, Lord Steward. That is a very old song, perhaps older then my father even. When I was very young, my mother, the Lady Celebrian, would sing it to my brothers and I on nights when we could not sleep. It has always warmed my heart in times of sadness and joy."  
Aragorn smiled as he pulled me closer. "It is a fitting song for such an occasion, indeed. One wedding this day, and another wedding I two weeks time. But of course I am biased. Arwen could sing a song glorifying the valor of the Orcs, and I would find it lovely simply because the words echo from her lips."  
I feel the raging blush spread across my cheeks. I know the effects of ale and love have loosened Estel's lips, but I do not mind such praise coming from the only one I would have speak such words. I see a slight frown drag down Eowyn's mouth, and for a moment I can sense her desire to be in my stead. Realization dawns and with a shocked start I realize why she is so reserved around me. She loves my Estel.  
No, it cannot be. She loves Faramir. I see it in her eyes and in the way she touches him. And then I realize that it is possible to love two very different men for two very different reasons.  
She loves Faramir for the way he treats her. For his spirit and his loyalty and his heart. She loves Aragorn simply because of his imposing physical presence. It is love against lust. It is understandable.  
I am not so foolish to believe that I am the first Aragorn has loved, nor am I foolish enough to believe I will be the first to lay beneath him late at night, urging him on and bringing him to the very heights of pleasure. I am the first to hold his heart in it's entirety. I am not the first woman he has loved, but I am the woman he has loved most.  
For a moment I wonder if I should trust the relationship that exists now between King and shieldmaiden. Long nights spent awaiting battle lead to strange bedfellows, when there is no hope left. But these thoughts are fleeting. I know Aragorn. I know his heart rests with me, and that since our meeting and pledging no other has warmed his bed or heart. I try to feel anger for this upstart for thinking she could take my place in Aragorn's attentions, but the sight before me renders me incapable. Eowyn so loves Faramir that she is virtually ignoring myself and the King of Gondor.  
Seeing their desire for each other's company, Aragorn leads me away from the couple and links my arm with his. He motions to a servent to bring us wine flasks, and kisses me gently on the lips.  
Pulling away from the kiss, I look him in the eye.  
"She loved you."  
Aragorn sighed, and averted his gaze to the floor.  
"She did."  
I am not surprised at his admission. He would not lie to me for anything.  
"Have you reason to believe that she still harbors fond feeling for you?"  
"She loved who I wasn't. She loved a shadow. Nothing more. I blinded myself to her plight so I could spare her feelings."  
I muse over his words for a moment, before sipping my wine thoughtfully.  
"Do you think she is happy with her choice?"  
Aragorn looks over his shoulder at the couple, busy laughing and kissing as they join the dancing couples gliding over the soft grass and stone of the courtyard.  
"Happier then most I've seen in my life. She will grow to love him in the same manner."  
I smile, and kiss his shoulder, my lips grazing against the velvet and metal of his royal robes.  
"Good, because I'm not ready to give you up quite yet." I smirk up at him, and he kisses the tip of my nose.  
"I am glad to hear that, Indonya, because I have no intention of going anywhere."  
  
***Song taken from lord of the dance soundtrack 


	3. A Son of Rohan

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just play in their world.  
  
I have never seen my sister this happy. Even as a child, plodding through the open plains of Rohan as though she were a horse, she was never this happy. Lord Faramir of the White city has changed her, and I suspect it is a change for the better. She glows like the sun. I have always thought her beauty more sharp and rough then other maids, but today her grace shines like gold, and only one other can compare. Perhaps all maids are this lovely on their wedding day, or perhaps I am just favoring my sister.  
  
Elrond's daughter is the jewel with which every King wishes to garnish his crown. I have never seen such exquisite features, nor do I believe are there maids in legends more fair then the future Queen of Gondor. Surely Aragorn must know what a treasure he possesses. From the way he hovers about her I think it safe to say he does. By my fathers, what a lady.  
  
"Eomer!"  
  
At the sound of my name I turn and see my sister dashing at me with all the emotion I know her capable of. I hold out my arms and she falls into them, red cheeked and bright eyed, her yellow hair flowing down the heavy white wool of her gown. Her smile is larger then I ever thought it could be, and when our eyes meet I see a joy I have not seen since before our parents left this world. I draw her closer and bury my face in her hair. My little sister is married now, and I will soon give her leave to depart the hall of Meduseld forever for the white walls of Ithilian. I can feel the tickle of tears upon my cheek, and though a King I now be, I care not for such brotherly displays of affection.  
  
Though her face is buried in the heavy mantle about my shoulders, she knows me well enough to recognize the slight tense stance of my body, and she looks at my face with eyes clear and sad for me.  
  
"You should not cry, brother. I may be a wife now, but I shall always be a sister to you regardless of distance or time apart."  
  
I smile. My sister knows me better then anyone. Our cousin, Theodred, when he was alive, use to tease my sister and I by saying were it not for my beard and her breasts, he would think us the same person, so alike were we in feeling and demeanor. I suppose now that he was justified in such a statement. Looking at my sister's face at this very moment, I can see we both share her happiness and sadness.  
  
"Aye, little one, and I shall always be a brother on the lookout for his sister's welfare. I am proud of you, Eowyn. Uncle Theoden, and our mother and father look upon you from the hall of Mandos, and blessed you shall be."  
  
She breaks a little bit, and a few errant tears slip from beneath her closed eyes and run down her cheeks. I see coming towards us her husband, content to give us a few precious moments of privacy, lingering on the sidelines of our conversation. Hugging her tightly one more time, I kiss her cheek and brush away her tears. I motion for Faramir, who comes to stand beside us, one of his hands reaching out for Eowyn's and grasping it gently. The simple gesture warms my heart, and I know I can trust my sister to such a man.  
  
I put one hand on his shoulder, and he looks at me fleetingly before bowing his head slightly, indicating my new title and rank.  
  
"My Lord Eomer", he says, his voice clear and light.  
  
"Take good care of this Lady of Rohan, Steward. She means a great deal to the King and his men, and they would be sore pressed to hear of any malcontent she bare."  
  
My words are severe, but carry a tone that speaks levels with the younger man. He smiles at me, and takes my offered hand in a vigorous shake.  
  
"Of course, your majesty. I would have it no other way, even on pain of death."  
  
"Well said, brother-mine." I pat his shoulder, and watch as he embraces my sister. I turn to leave, but before I do, I address him one more time.  
  
"And Faramir...."  
  
"Aye?"  
  
"See to it that you bring her 'round to Edoras from time to time. Not only am I losing my sister to you this day, I also lose my best competition in horse racing."  
  
Eowyn laughs, and I wink at her. Faramir chuckles, and nods his head in agreement before turning to his wife and kissing her.  
  
I turn and venture into the crowds, stopping to speak with several young maids and advisors to Aragorn, when I feel a light pressure on my arm. Excusing myself from the conversation I was presently engaged in, I turn and find my eyes meeting the deep blue spheres of Lady Arwen. So captivated am I, I barely notice the departure of the pretty young thing I was talking to. Before me stands the fairest being I've ever laid eyes upon, and I am speechless.  
  
"How fare you this evening, your Majesty?" Her voice is like soft honey, and it sends a chill down my spine. My tongue feels thick in my mouth, and her use of my title does not hit me at all.  
  
"I am well, Lady Undomiel. I trust you are fine?" I wince at my own blunder. I feel a fool in her presence, so distracting is her beauty, and I find myself wondering just how in bloody hell Aragorn manages to keep his wits about him when she is constantly by his side.  
  
"I am well, thank you. I saw you wandering the crowd and thought perhaps I could convince you to dance with me."  
  
"Dance with you? Surely my lady can find others of more agreeable company to dance with?"  
  
Arwen smiles and points to Gimli standing nearby, who watches in an amused gaze at Arwen's gesture. "Well, I would dance with Gimli, but I fear that instead of stepping on his feet I would simply step on him." The dwarf huffs before smiling and points a finger at the lithe elf. "Watch it lassie. I may be a dwarf, but I could best ye in a waltz."  
  
We laugh, and offering an arm, I escort Elrond's daughter to the pavilion under which lovers and friends glided and turned with dedicated elegance. I am far from a remarkable dancer, so I fear I shall embarrass the elegant elfmaid with my plodding steps. Strangely enough, once her hand is in my mine, and she begins to move to the lively music, it is though I become someone else; someone capable of dancing well.  
  
"You have an unusual effect on me, Lady Arwen. Normally I could not dance to save my own life."  
  
"Perhaps it is the magic of the elfs. Or perhaps the music. Elven choirs are known for their ability to stir the hearts of men and women alike, elf or mortal."  
  
"Perhaps." I rest my eyes upon Arwen's face, and find myself wishing in some small measure that I had been aware of her existence before Aragorn. But then in my mind's eye I see the light in his eyes when he thinks of her, and something inside me wishes to one day have the same light in my own eyes for a woman. The King of Gondor is a lucky man indeed, and maybe someday I too shall find a love such as his.  
  
"Might I inquire, my lady, as to why you are here with me and not with your future husband?"  
  
"Arwen, who has begun humming the song, pauses and smiles before giggling. "He is with my father, being lectured on the responsibilities of marriage and husbandly duties."  
  
I laugh, a loud gaffaw that echoes throughout the courtyard, drawing the stares of several partygoers. "Is King Aragorn in such dire need of advice, then?"  
  
Arwen joins my laughter with her own bell-like chuckles. "No, but I cannot convince my father otherwise." A faraway look melts her eyes, and her beauty and grace pour forth like water in a fountain. "Aragorn loves me, in a way no other has before. In his heart he shall know the right way to be a husband, just as he will know the right way to be a King." The look fades and her face, pale and silver in the evening air, shines. "His people will love him, just as I always have."  
  
I nod at her words, and search for light hearted conversation. "How is marriage between the elves different from our own?" I wait for her answer, and she looks at me with a smile before answering.  
  
"The ceremony itself is long and at times trying, but at the end of the night the end result is just as pleasurable as any mortal wedding."  
  
I stare in shock at the elf princess before once more erupting in peels of laughter. For one born of so noble and old a house, Lady Arwen is free spirited and opinionated, quite like my sister. I think once they get to know each other, they will be great friends.  
  
The music ends and a new song begins. Arwen and I part and I raise her hand to my lips to place a kiss upon her silky skin.  
  
"It has been a pleasure, dear Eomer. Perhaps we might share another dance later?"  
  
I bow. "The pleasure is mine, M'lady. I shall hold you to that next dance, providing Aragorn see fit to let you from his sights again with such a charming man as myself."  
  
Arwen giggles, and covers her full lips with a delicate hand. "Perhaps", she murmurs, and curtseys before fading back into the crowd.  
  
I watch her recede into her own glittering mist, and sigh as I once more survey those around me. Indeed, Faramir and Aragorn both have my envy this night. 


	4. A Kingly reverie

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just play in their world.  
  
I watch Arwen as she walks through the palace halls, content to acquaint herself with my advisors and the servants, speaking to them as though each were her equal in status. She is noble by birth, an high Elven princess born to a house of prestige and honor, but she will soon be a Queen, and her grace and caring will ensure her the respect of our subjects. The ways she mingled with all manner of people during the wedding of my steward and the white lady of Rohan only reinforced my belief that only she could rule by my side with matched ability.  
  
As I stand under the morning sunshine watching the courtyard below the balcony, I smile as she sits under the white tree of Gondor, hand playing in the water of the fountain. She is speaking with her handmaid Uruviel, placed in her charge by her grandmother Galadriel. The blond elf maid stands over Arwen's shoulders, running her elegant hands through my love's hair, pulling it back into a thick dark braid, and suddenly I would love to be in her stead, playing with Arwen's curls rather then waiting upon an impending meeting with my councilors. Their voices are low, slightly accented and lilting, and the sound reminds me of a song my mother would sing to me as a child in Rivendell.  
  
Memories of my childhood distract my musing, and I find myself remembering the way my mother would gracefully glide through Elrond's halls, quietly grieving for my fallen father. She always carried a book about in the pocket of her skirts, though in thinking about it I find I can no longer remember the name of this book. I do recall from her stories that my father had given it to her and an inscription lined it's first page, my father's scrawl pledging his undying love for my mother. Before my mother died of her grief, she gave the book to Arwen, believing the daughter of her trusted friend would protect the memento. As I was a small child then, I did not recognize the ache in Arwen's eyes at receiving such a gift. I also never asked Arwen about the book, because I had assumed that Elrond's daughter knew of the importance of this book to my mother, and had buried the item with my mother's body beneath the willow tress of Rivendell. We still have not spoken of those days, for I know Arwen understands my sadness and reluctance to part with the few memories I reserve of my mother for my own use.  
  
Thinking of the love my father and mother shared only furthers to remind me of the intense passion I have harbored for Arwen since I encountered her in Lorien. Despite being reared in Rivendell by Elrond, I was preoccupied by life's everyday mysteries, and eager to go out into the world and prove my worth. Until the year I turned twenty, I hardly thought of Arwen at all. I did not see her often, as she was usually away in Lothlorien with her mother's kin. When I would see her, I would think her beautiful, and like men are prone to do, found myself occasionally incorporating her into the fantasies all young men indulge in when discovering themselves. But she was never more then a pleasing pastime until I saw her in the golden woods, twirling and singing.  
  
I was struck at the change in my perceptions of her. It was as though she had suddenly become a goddess, and I was eager to worship at her feet. For a time, I was nothing more then an annoyance to her. I followed her around and sought her out, trying to gain knowledge of her likes, dislikes, dreams, and loves. I wanted to make her see me as I saw her; intriguing, genuine, and pleasing. I'm sure my onslaught caused her more consternation then interest, but eventually I won her over, much to my delight. We spent days and nights speaking beneath clouds and stars, walking through midnight forests, and embracing in secluded glades. We promised ourselves to each other, and though there have been countless hardships and trials standing in our way, here we now stand, one day away from our wedding and the rest of our life together.  
  
"Your Majesty?"  
  
Turning to look over my shoulder, I see a young page, no older then thirteen, kneeling before me. I grimace at the sight. I doubt I shall ever be used to such sights of reverance. I raise my hands in a gesture for the boy to stand.  
  
"Please stand, my boy. What news do you bring me this day?"  
  
The boy shifts uncomfortably, and I wonder what such message he could be baring to garner such hesitation. He clears his throat and speaks haltingly. "A message from the Lady Arwen. She wishes you adhere to the customs of her people and leave her be until the 'morrow. She wishes you to know it is considered ill bearing for you to lay eyes upon her the day before her father presents her hand to you."  
  
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, and in response, I turn and walk to the railing of the balcony, gazing down at the retreating backside of my love. The page remains behind me, awaiting on my answer. Amused, I raise the level of my voice, loud enough for her to hear as she leaves the quiet of the courtyard.  
  
"You may tell Lady Arwen that as King, I may look upon that which pleases me most, regardless of desire or tradition."  
  
I watch as Arwen smiles over her shoulder, and Uruviel glares up at my crudeness.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"That is all, Page. You are dismissed. Go and enjoy the company of your friends for the remainder of the night. I have no need for your services anymore this day." The boy bows slightly, and with a smile, bounds with childish enthusiasm from my presence.  
  
Sighing contentedly, I return my gaze to the courtyard, and enjoy the warmth of the summer sun upon my back. Tomorrow this green shall be made ready for the wedding of a King, but for now all is quiet and serene. I clasp my hands behind my back and head back towards the cool stone halls of the palace, mindful to avoid my future Queen and her throng of protective attendants, at least until midnight. 


	5. An Elf Lord's gift

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just play in their world.  
  
When my wife sailed across the sea into the West, I thought there was no greater pain than to lose her. Now, as I stand here watching my daughter wed a man whose love means her doom, I know now that I was wrong.  
  
I watch Arwen's eyes as she stands beside Aragorn. They shine bluer than I have ever seen them, like a sapphire brought up from the dark mines of the dwarves and shown in the bright light of the sun for the first time. She trembles slightly, but the smile emblazoned across her face never wavers. The light from the torches lining the great hall of the palace catch in the onyx waves of her hair, sparking black fire in the lustrous waves as she looks at Aragorn. Upon her brow she wears the same jeweled circlet her mother wore on our wedding day.  
  
My eyes mist and I remember the joy Celebrian and I shared on the day we were wed. So long ago it seems, but for the ageless, time loses its sharpness, if not its sting. Soon I too shall venture across the sea and once again embrace my long departed bride, but despite how eager I am for that long overdue reunion, I find myself reluctant to leave that which keeps me so deeply rooted in Middle-earth. My children, grown and wise in the ways only Elves might be, still love this world and all of its keepings. Whether it be land or home or love, all three of my children remain here when I leave, though my sons might yet still cross the waves in due time. My daughter, however, will never see the home of her people. Valinor will never be anything more to her than a faraway dream.  
  
I think of the effect my daughter's choice will have on her mother. Celebrian departed before Gilraen brought her son to Imladris. She never saw the child who would one day become man's only hope. In my heart, I wonder if in her boundless wisdom, Celebrian would have sensed Arwen's doom in that babe. She was perceptive like that, much like her mother Galadriel.  
  
It will be with mixed tidings that I tell her of Arwen's decision. It was a hope etched deeply into Celebrian's heart that she would one day see her daughter again. Now there is no chance of that happening. There will be tears, and pain, but my wife was never one to find fault in others. She will be proud of Arwen, and love Estel as a son, whether or not their paths ever crossed. And perhaps the belief that her daughter is happy will soothe the ache in her heart over her loss. It will have to be enough for me.  
  
Gandalf's booming voice snaps me from my reverie. He stands before Aragorn and Arwen, binding their hands with silk threads. The two turn to each other, and place their hands over the other's heart, before bowing their heads in unison and allowing Gandalf to speak.  
  
"Far too long have these two hearts beat apart. Now in their union might they finally be one and find the happiness from which they have been long detained. By Elbereth, vow now and be for ever more joined as man and wife, lord and lady, King and Queen. Hal Aragorn! Hal Arwen!"  
  
My daughter leans into the King, her face lit and beaming. Drifting from one lover to the other, I feel my heart lose some of its ache as I see the love and joy spread across Estel's bearded face. His eyes dance before closing as he leans to place a passionate kiss on Arwen's lips. She receives the intimate gesture, and meets it with equal fervor. She throws her arms around his neck, and he lifts her against him. They part, and as my daughter laughs, her new husband spins her around. The thick velvet folds of her wedding dress spin about their bodies, the light silver material clashing with the pewter metal of Aragorn's kingly armor.  
  
It is done. My daughter's doom has fallen and she is now as mortal as the crowd spread out before me. She retains her elven grace, her ageless beauty and the years of knowledge and wisdom her long life has gathered, but the Evenstar will one day dim, as is the lot of man to one day revoke his life. Her life's grace is spent and the privilege of her heritage is forfeit. Thought mortal she may now be, she shall always be my daughter.  
  
Arwen turns, and I can see in her eyes the ecstatic excitement within her. She scans the crowd, and her eyes fall on me, and I find myself forgetting to inhale. She renders me speechless, my father's pride consuming me as I look upon the girl I raised from swaddling cloths to marriage. She is so very like her mother, and I smile. I may lose my daughter to death, but I shall always have this moment.  
  
As Aragorn watches standing before his throne, Arwen calmly steps down the marble stairs to stand before me. I bow, as fitting of her new station, but also because she is justly deserving of it. I marvel at the fortitude this lovely woman contains, for she has made a hard choice wisely. She nods at me, and rushes into my arms without another moments delay.  
  
"Ada", she whispers like an evening's breeze, and I tighten my hold on her before closing my eyes and burying my face in her soft curls. I can feel tears slipping from beneath my shut eyelids, but I can find no reason to wipe them away. I open my eyes and over Arwen's shoulder, I watch Aragorn as he smiles at us. Our gaze meets, and he places his hand over his heart, thanking me for the gift he has this day received. I look at the man I have helped raise to manhood, and I see nothing but the greatness of which he is destined. He has proved his worth, and this day I love him more than any other day.  
  
Arwen withdraws from my arms, and smiles at me with the love only a daughter can give. "Hannon lle", she says, placing a kiss upon my cheek. I sigh and return the gesture, pressing my lips to her forehead. "This day, the true beauty of the Evenstar shines more greatly than ever. May you be happy always, Undomiel Bereth." She smiles, and takes my hand in her own. She leads me back to the Throne of her husband, who steps down the black marble to kneel at my feet. The crowd gasps at the sight of their King kneeling before another, and I can feel their eyes upon me as he presses a kiss to my ring.  
  
"Lord Elrond, you have never failed to set me upon the truest path. Now you entrust me in the greatest joy you have. I will not falter. Arwen will be loved and revered and known for the jewel that she is. I only hope that I might make her as happy as she has done for me. I thank you for that privilege."  
  
I offer my hand and Aragorn stands. I enfold him in my embrace and silently chant a prayer that the Valar will look over my family as it grows in my absence. We part and I smile at the Dunedain. "Estel, you have proved your worth, and as a man of honor, I will deliver what I have always promised." I hold a hand out to Arwen, and she takes it eagerly. Turning back to the King of Gondor, I place my daughter's delicate hand in his rougher palm. "I bless your marriage. Come now, and let us celebrate such an illustrious union. Might that this night even result in an heir to the newly restored throne." The crowd laughs, and I watch in silent amusement the flicker of desire that sparks in Aragorn's eyes as he watches Arwen smile.  
  
Aragorn raises his arms, and bellows loudly "To the feast, then!" The cheering onlookers clap and shout as the King and Queen escort them out to the courtyard over looking Minas Tirith." I, along with the other elves, follow the King's subjects out of the great hall, and as the others take their seat, my gaze lingers upon the newly wed couple standing away from the others. They kiss, and Aragorn's hand drifts into her hair, drawing her closer to him. They whisper to each other, and over the loud din of the revelers, I can hear Arwen's singsong laughter echo across the celebration. I memorize the clear sound, and store it deep within the confines of my memory. When I take my seat at the King's table, I notice my daughter and her husband cleverly sneak away from the fray, no doubt to take early advantage of their wedding night.  
  
At that I laugh outright, unaware that others stare at me as I do so. The look upon Estel's face as I instructed him on the proper etiquette for his wedding night will also stay in my mind for another hundred ages. I raise my goblet, and drink the wine within. Yes, there are many memories to consume the long journey into the west. 


End file.
